Sally nodded toward the butler, and waved him away, knowing that he had overheard Patricia's words, and that she would speedily be served; the others of the party resumed their former seats around the table, and the practical Sally turned and faced Patricia, again, her eyes flashing some of the indignation she felt because of her guest's evident reluctance to explain the strange circumstance of her arrival at Cedarcrest alone.
"Patricia Langdon," she said, "I think you might tell us what has happened. We are all on edge with expectancy. Where is Dick Morton?"
"Oh, he is somewhere back there on the highway, walking toward Cedarcrest, I suppose," replied Patricia smilingly, dropping into a chair beside the table.
"Did you start out from New York together?" persisted Sally.
"Oh, yes."
"Won't you please tell us what has happened?"
Patricia's lips parted, while she hesitated for a reply. She had no desire to tell these people of the incidents that had actually occurred. Many another, in her position, would have revealed at once the whole truth, and would have made these others acquainted with the conduct of Richard Morton, during that wild ride she had been forced to take with him through the gathering gloom. But Patricia was not that kind. She was quite conscious of the strangeness of her arrival at Cedarcrest alone, in Morton's car, and of the wrong constructions which might be given to the incident. She knew that every man who was present in the room, would bitterly resent the indignities Morton had put upon her, if she should relate the facts. But she believed that Morton had been sufficiently punished. She even doubted if he would appear there, at all, now; and so, instead of replying to Sally's repeated request, she shrugged her shoulders, and responded: "I think I'll leave the explanation to Mr. Morton, when he arrives."
Food was placed before her at that moment and she transferred her attention to it; while her friends, perceiving that she was not inclined to take them into her confidence, started other subjects of conversation, although the mind of each one of them was still intent upon what might have happened during Patricia's journey from New York in the company of Richard Morton.
Roderick Duncan had not resumed his seat at the table; he had remained in the background, and had maintained an utter silence. But his thoughts had been busy, indeed. He knew and understood Patricia, better than these others did--with the possible exception of Beatrice, who also was silent. But, now, he passed around the table until he stood behind Patricia's chair. Then, he dropped down upon a vacant one that was beside her, and, resting one elbow on the table, peered inquiringly into the girl's flushed face, more beautiful than ever in her excitement. That strange feeling of exhilaration was still upon her, and there was undoubted triumph and self-satisfaction depicted in her eyes and demeanor.